


Needful Things

by leonidaslion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonidaslion/pseuds/leonidaslion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it isn't about what you want ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needful Things

Dean needs it sometimes.

Needs someone to step in and take his hands off the controls when his knuckles have gone numb and white from holding on so tightly. Needs someone to force him to live in his body for a few moments instead of his regrets.

Sam reads the warning signs—a sharpness in Dean's voice, a tick in his jaw—and then his eyes go dark and he says, “Dean,” in this low, smoky voice, and the straining, fearful concerns that have twisted Dean into knots _(coming for Sammy keep him safe_ save _him)_ fall away for a little while. Sam’s body covers his, and Sam’s hands hold him down so that he has no choice but to lie still and take what he’s being given, and Sam’s cock pushes into him so heavy and hot that it hurts: a good pain, a burning ache that lingers for days of calm clarity.

“Good boy,” Sam grunts as he moves in and out of Dean’s body. “Such a good boy for me.”

Dean would tell his brother to shut the fuck up and pick up the pace, but he’s too busy moaning.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam needs it sometimes.

Needs to be able to control _something_ in his life, which is too filled with destiny and fate and other people’s desires. Needs to be the one doing the pushing instead of the one getting pushed.

He doesn’t know how his brother knows, but Dean always does. Things will be spinning further and further out of control until Sam is certain that he’s going to lose his mind completely and then he’ll come back to the motel room and Dean will be kneeling on the floor by the door, completely naked, and the frantic buzzing beneath Sam’s skin telling him to runrunrun before destiny can catch up and tighten the noose around his neck quiets. Dean obeys his orders _(open your mouth, suck me, spread your legs, finger yourself)_ implicitly and without hesitation. He lets Sam in his body like there was never any other option, malleable and submissive and pliant, and the noises he makes would give a seasoned hooker a heart attack.

“So beautiful,” Sam tells his brother as Dean fucks himself open on Sam’s cock _(just like Sam told him to, good boy, just right)_. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamned gorgeous.”

It’s the closest Dean will ever let him come to saying thank you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They need it sometimes.

Need to realign themselves with one another when they accidentally fall _(or are pushed)_ out of step. Need to shift their orbits when months of being too close—too SamnDean and DeannSam—leaves them raw and restless.

They never discuss it. It’s just something that happens every once in a while when they’re alone.

By the side of a deserted highway, Dean sprawls back in the shotgun seat with his feet on the gravel and his brother between his knees. His hand catches in Sam’s messy hair _(tug, pull, caress)_ , but he does his best not to interfere with what Sam is doing with his mouth, which is sloppy and wet on Dean’s dick. Sam’s fingers are wrapped around his own erection, jacking it feverishly, and they come one on top of another like thunder trailing lightning. Before Sam’s cock has even stopped twitching, Dean reaches down and yanks him up and shoves their mouths together and licks the taste of himself from his brother’s tongue.

In a back alley, Sam hoists Dean up against the side of a building—Dean’s pants discarded and lying in a puddle, Dean’s legs wrapped around Sam’s waist, Dean’s hands clamped on Sam’s biceps—and Dean rocks his hips in encouraging motions as Sam sinks in _(deep, deeper, deepest)_. They fuck hard and fast and rough, breath tangled between their panting mouths, and when he comes Dean bites down on the side of his brother’s neck hard enough to draw blood.

On a broken down motel bed, Dean kisses Sam languid and slow until they’re both over stimulated and shivering. Then Sam rolls them over and parts Dean’s thighs with his knee and breaches him with first fingers _(one, two, three)_ and then cock. When they finally get to the fucking, they move with the easy, rolling rhythm of waves, and Sam can’t seem to stop stroking his hands down his brother’s face and chest and sides, and Dean can’t seem to stop kissing him.

“You wanna?” Sam might say sometimes, or Dean will be more direct and announce, “Booty call, bitch.”

And if they can’t bring themselves to name this thing between them, well, words are overrated anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Whatever the world might say, it isn’t about being deviant, and it isn’t about the sex. It’s about family, and blood, and duty. It’s about _them_ , Sam and Dean Winchester, and how they fit together: shoulder to shoulder and back to back and heart to heart, forever and ever amen.

At the end of the day, in the privacy of rented rooms and beds, it isn’t about what they want.

It’s about what they need.


End file.
